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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348258">No Stranger to Pain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees'>learningthetrees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fatherhood, First Aid, Hurt, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:55:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything in Willy’s life had repercussions: his father’s cancer, his mother’s coping, even Will’s own demons. In front of him was a child who, contrary to his desires, had to grow up too fast and realize every moment could change him irrevocably.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Molly Graham/Will Graham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Stranger to Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the kitchen door banged open, Will whirled on his heel to face the intruder, his heart immediately racing and his hands scrambling to reach anything he could find to defend himself with. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he saw it was just Willy. The boy, like most ten-year-olds, went everywhere quickly and loudly, but sometimes he still took Will by surprise. <br/><br/>His relief was short-lived, though, when he saw the grimace on the boy’s face. Willy had tried to hide it, in that way that only a boy trying to impress a man can do, but Will was observant, and a flash of pain was all he needed to notice. A cursory glance over Willy’s person revealed the source of the pain: torn skin on his knee from which blood was running in red tracks down his shin.<br/><br/>“You okay?” Will asked, glancing up to meet Willy’s gaze. The boy’s façade didn’t waver as he nodded stiffly, just a jerk of the chin. Will wondered where he’d learned to hide pain like that. “I believe you. Can I take a look at it anyway?”<br/><br/>Willy took a few limping steps into the room, which Will took as an affirmative. He lifted the boy gently under the arms and set him on the kitchen counter, kneeling so he could better examine the injury. From what he could tell, the amount of blood was deceiving; Willy had probably only taken off a few layers of skin. Dirt was mixed into the wound, and Will could just imagine the boy racing through the yard, tripping, and plummeting to the dusty ground. He remembered being a boy himself during the summer, when physical obstacles seemed only secondary to a child’s speed. <br/><br/>“Let’s clean this up,” he said, reaching behind him for a towel. He ran it under the tap, turning the faucet until the water steamed and adding a pump of hand soap. “This might sting.” He looked up at his stepson from under his curls, gauging Willy’s reaction as he gently cleaned the scrape. Willy tightened his lips, but otherwise didn’t make any indication of discomfort. Kids, in Will’s experience, weren’t adept at keeping emotions hidden. Willy was either impervious to pain or felt he had to be brave.<br/><br/>As the blood washed away, Will could see that his diagnosis was correct; although he knew it hurt, Willy’s injury would heal quickly. He patted the area dry and stepped away for a moment to retrieve the first-aid kit from the cupboard. When he returned, he saw Willy inspecting the ragged flesh. “Will?” His voice was small. <br/><br/>“Yeah?” He uncapped a tube of antiseptic gel and gently smeared it on the injury.<br/><br/>“Is it gonna leave a scar?”<br/><br/>Will was about to apply a bandage when the question stopped him. He looked up again into the dark, wide eyes of the boy he treated as his son. A boy who, for some reason, was afraid that his past would physically mark him. And Will could understand why. Everything in Willy’s life had repercussions: his father’s cancer, his mother’s coping, even Will’s own demons. In front of him was a child who, contrary to his desires, had to grow up too fast and realize every moment could change him irrevocably. <br/><br/>Will shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “No, this’ll hurt for a little, but by tomorrow, it’ll be like it never happened. Hurt heals eventually.” Will could tell there was an unasked question hanging in the air between them; Willy’s mouth hovered on the verge of forming it. <br/><br/>“Were you hurt?” It was the kind of question Molly would have chided him for asking had she been around, but Will was no longer fond of skirting around issues. <br/><br/>“I was,” he replied. “I used to work with the police, helping them catch people who did terrible things. Sometimes, those people fought back.”<br/><br/>“But you got better?” Willy didn’t make eye contact when he spoke, and Will’s heart nearly broke. Willy had already lost so much. The thought of Will—who had known the boy for just over a year, who was nothing but a shadow of his own father; who sometimes found it hard to talk to Willy—being broken beyond repair visibly bothered Willy. <br/><br/>“I did,” Will said softly. “I’m sticking around.” <br/><br/>After he’d bandaged Willy’s knee, the boy hopped down from the counter and left the room, the limp already fading from his step. Will leaned against the counter and turned to see Molly in the doorway. Her hands were dirty from working in the garden, her sweaty hair pulled messily into a knot, but her smile was radiant.<br/><br/>“Will he live, Dr. Graham?” she asked.<br/><br/>“Dr. Graham.” Will snorted. “He’ll be fine.” <br/><br/>“He likes you,” she said simply. <br/><br/>Will shook his head. He recognized flattery when he heard it. “No, he tolerates me.”<br/><br/>“No,” Molly said as she walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist, “he really likes you. He looks up to you. He wants to impress you.”<br/><br/>“You have a good kid.” Will tucked an arm around Molly’s shoulders. <br/><br/>She smiled as she leaned in to kiss him. “<em>We</em> have a good kid.”</p>
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